Bonded

Hello, my awesome readers and fans! You all have brought me so far!

I didn't realize until it was too late that I would lose all your precious comments when I deleted all the chapters from Wattpad. I should have deleted the text, but not the entire chapter. :-( I really, really wish I hadn't done that. If you liked Bonded when you read it, could you please tell me about it below in the comments? Thank you!

The complete novel for Bonded is now available for sale in ebook format through Bold Strokes Books, and therefore can no longer be available for free on Wattpad. I have left an excerpt below, the one used on the publisher's website. The link to my book can be found here:

http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com/9781626391635e.html

Chapter One

What a miserable night.

At half past ten, Pittsburgh’s diverse nightlife was abuzz around Station Square. I attempted to blend in—just another young guy trying to get in out of the chill of the September night—but after ninety years of living in the shadows, I couldn’t bring myself to fake it anymore. Of course, the hunger I felt for the pulsing heat rushing through each body I passed wasn’t helping my mood.

Damn. I needed to focus.

When I struggled for control like this, my self-appointed work as a hunter was the only thing that kept me sane. I buried my urges in the search for those more monstrous than I, for vampires who killed their human victims. Each time I removed murderous filth like that from society, I was reminded about what I was preserving. If I protected the lives around me, then I was protecting whatever shred of my humanity was left.

I’d followed a string of grisly murders out of Ohio—an easy task, since the killer wasn’t concerned with discretion and left his bodies out in the open. While most vampires didn’t seem to give a damn about such things, a few had paid attention enough to supply a name: Lucius. At least I would know the name of the man I was going to kill.

I stopped at a newspaper display and read the headline: Two Mutilated Bodies Hung from Tree in West Park. I suspected Lucius was to blame—the bizarre display matched his style—but I couldn’t know for sure until I’d read further below and confirmed that the bodies were bloodless. West Park wasn’t far from the hotel where I was staying. Good. I was hoping I could make short work of things. Ever since I’d entered this city, my nerves had been shot, bundles of static that tingled under my skin. I was eager to leave the place.

Consumed as I was by what I’d read in the article, I nearly knocked a woman off her feet when I turned to leave. Without thinking, I reached out to balance her, my hand wrapping around her tiny upper arm—perhaps with too much force, because she flinched.

In a matter of seconds, she regained her composure. “How you doin’ there, handsome?”

The seductive vibe she was tossing my way was nothing I hadn’t seen before. After I noted her diminutive black dress, heavy makeup, and six-inch high-heeled shoes, I decided she must be a prostitute.

Uninterested, I answered her with a nod and was about to carry on my way when a yellow cab rushed by the curb, too close for comfort. Forced to step back, I collided with the woman a second time. I gave an absent-minded apology, incapable of looking away from the cab as it rushed to the red light fifty feet ahead and slammed on its brakes, leaving me feeling as if I were being dragged along behind it.

My heart lurched in my chest. Something tugged at my brain. Then, my senses sprang into overdrive: sounds pained my ears, and the lights of the city blinded my eyes. I felt intoxicated. Without warning, my mind was bombarded with pictures of a place: a bookshelf, an old record player, a black leather sofa. I hadn’t opened myself to another’s mind, so why the bloody hell were these images in my head?